


Even to the wild sea

by Fanfreluche



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Smut, Young Dutch, Younger Arthur, a tad dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfreluche/pseuds/Fanfreluche
Summary: A first time story with a twist.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Even to the wild sea

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur POV.

“Have you been with a man, Arthur?”

Looked up at him, naked standing to his right on a glistening wet slab of stone lining the singing river. His back was to the blazing midday sun so his face remained shadowed. He had to squint to be able to see his eyes, darker than usual, though the grin was visible enough, pearl-white. Something in his expression made his ears burn, and the nape of his neck, like a strong grip was holding it fast already, so he shifted his gaze away from the eyes and onto the broad shoulders, tracing water droplets sliding down and over the bicep, forearm, fingers, trapped and disappearing in the black curls on his knuckles before reappearing to- 

“What do you-” mean by ‘man’, he was going to ask, foolishly, before checking himself and finishing instead with a: “Yeah.”

Arthur turned his attention away and jumped back into the water. He liked swimming when it helped take his mind off things, like the lie he’d just told. He had never been with another man, nor had he thought about it. He seldom thought about these things, he realised, rolling to lie on his back, suspended on the gentle current of the deep river. Sun-soaked limbs felt nice and warm above the water, smooth and cool under the surface. He’d noticed how men his age salivated over a buxom bosom or a round ass, and while he enjoyed courting women it was never something he hankered for all the time, or thought of as a priority, or even a need. 

_Have you been with a man?_

He smiled to himself. Funny how the phrase made him notice his sex, in a way, again something he didn’t think about that often. Never woke up in the morning thinking ‘I’m a man’ or something similar. Now hearing him say that - maybe it was the voice? - felt unfamiliar, the way it made him notice himself, how he’d filled out in the past couple of years. It must be the voice; Dutch’s voice always had a strange effect on him. 

SPLASH!

“Hoi!”

“Dreaming, Mr Morgan?”

He spanked a handful of water back at him, wrestled him a little. Limbs wet against his, sliding, sticking, strangely rousing.

“Can dream if I want to! Not like there are sharks here in these waters.”

“Don’t be so sure…”

True that. The shark grin, considering. Willing to eat him up whole, or bits by bits, he reckoned, from the way he looked at him. And he sported the same grin when he came into his tent that night. Crawled next to his bedroll. No words. A look first and then bent to perform the motions he’d come to understand to be a kiss, never performed himself even when he was fucking a- or no, he had, tried to at least on this waitress not much older than himself. Hadn’t felt much back then, unlike now, which was probably why he’d forgotten about it. 

Wet and warm at first lick, but that understanding came to him later when his heartbeat had calmed somewhat, enough at least to let him perceive what was going on. Feel the heat of him pressing down on him, hands tracing the sides of his increasingly vibrant body in a measured pace, though he could tell he was holding back.

_Why?_

Out of ignorance he mirrored the gestures, each and every one, not knowing any better what to do and the instinct not guiding him yet, afraid as he was that if instinct took over he might do something wrong, or too much, and break him. 

A thing made of glass was Dutch, he had realised some time ago. Or maybe ice, hard but breakable. And it took Arthur all his might to not crush him sometimes, when sensing the power in himself he felt like doing so just for the sake of it. But then what? So he let it out bit by bit, as sarcasm meant to provoke, in unruliness, with doubt, bit by bit, gentle darts of curtailed aggression cast towards the glacial surface, aimed at the existing cracks of course for better impact. Already they were deepening and widening, so imagine after decades… Chiseled into an imperfection in his own image no doubt, if it transpired that they should stay in each other’s company that long. 

Oh, it wasn’t out of cruelty, for love him he did, in his own way, the only way he knew. And so it was that he felt the flood of the heat and the liquid need well up inside him when he ground against him, above him, rigid member ice-hot as it slid against his, naked now. His insides melting already and he hadn’t even sought entry. 

“Arthur…”

He mewled and bit him on the lips in return, had to push himself up a bit.

“Who was he?”

Heart pounding again. ‘Who?’ He was going to ask before remembering the earlier lie. What to do now? Tell him the truth? Part of him wanted to keep up the facade, paint a picture of himself other than who he was so that if he ever came to hate him it would be the false Arthur he hated and not him. 

“No one… I lied, never been-”

Was silenced in the best way. Good. Always one for a bit of pain, and sometimes whispers worked better than bites.

His tongue and lips stung still when Dutch pulled away. In the dark of the tent he could make out his expression. He was watching him like he wanted to ask something. Took a few good minutes before he realised it wasn’t a question.

“I can’t have you now,” Dutch was saying, and _oh god_ he already didn’t want to hear the rest. “If it’s your first time-” So he stopped listening.

He wouldn’t stop talking though, so a frustrated growl and Arthur pushed himself up, pushed Dutch away and onto the ground, pinned under his younger, stronger weight. 

“Arthur-”

Mmmm, delicious...

“Art-”

Mmmm… 

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?”

He did a quick work of Dutch’s trousers while he was busy chuckling, ripped open the union suit and pushed his legs open, hands pressed firmly to his thighs, and stared at him.

“I know you’ll never tell me you want it,” Arthur began, carefully choosing his words while trying not to be too distracted by the charm of the confusion in the other’s disarrayed hair and wild gaze, colour of the deepest depths of the sea where monstrous creatures lurked. “So if you don’t want it, tell me and I’ll stop.”

He’d always been good at articulating his displeasure after all. Which didn’t show, if the throb in the cock nestled in the palm of his hand was anything to go by. Or the reflexive buck when he swiped a feather-light thumb across the wet slit. Lovely… And another when he bent and whispered to him that “I’m going to take you, Dutch. I’m going to...”

A push and the head was in, and out again immediately as he heard him grunt in pain. He wondered if he’d done something wrong while peppering kisses on his brow and cheeks and the outline of the moustache he was beginning to grow. 

“Tell me what to do,” Arthur murmured softly, kissing Dutch’s throat with doubled affection to drown the mounting desire to continue fucking him in spite of the pain, because of the pain. “Tell me, teach me.”

“Use oil,” came the response finally, and it seemed to him he even heard a hint of amusement in the accent. 

“Gun oil?”

“You have any other oil?”

He fetched it, coated his fingers, but was instructed to lubricate his cock only. Wasn’t sure it was enough, but listened anyway, good boy that he was. 

Heaven, the pleasure of it. In now, in one go, impatience or the force of youth, whichever… Rubbed his face against his chest, licking the nipples, pulling on the hair, up there, down here. And any further worries that swam to the shore with each laboured groan sunk back into oblivion when Dutch wrapped both arms about him, with a gentle sort of awkwardness, around his waist and shoulder and pulled him closer, his own hands hooked under the thighs to keep them apart and accepting for himself.

Buried his face in the crook of his neck as he fucked him, harder now, seeking his selfish pleasure from the grip on his cock, a bit looser with each eager thrust, he liked to imagine in his inexperience, opening up for him, a gift.

Was different from fucking a girl. Tighter for one thing, and something else he didn’t want to recognise too quickly so that he would have an excuse - such as satisfying his curiosity - to go back for more later on.

Never known such a mixture of gratification and fear before, knowing how after this he would have him, could make him do anything for a taste of this, and so promised to himself that he would never let him know. Sarcasm, unruliness, doubt… Forming the lie little by little.

He bit the meeting point of his neck and shoulder when he came without warning, was taken by surprise even himself by the suddenness of it and the force. All his physical being concentrated into a tense coil of pulsing bliss, his consciousness thinned oceanic in proportion.

“Arthur, I need to...”

It shamed him, to hear his voice like that, compromised. And in his embarrassment he realised Dutch hadn’t come yet.

“No, let me…”

“Arthur...”

No sooner had he took him in his mouth when, one, two, he climaxed, clutching his hair so hard it hurt, tears springing forth. And he grinned - small victories - when he lifted his head, licking his lips while taking in the as-of-yet strange taste. 

Dutch was glaring at him, cheeks still flushed red.

“Happy now?”

He let him have a taste of himself.

“Never. You?”


End file.
